


Something Borrowed

by DawnandStars



Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Barbara Gordon is Batgirl, DC Comics Rebirth, Death of the Family (DCU), F/M, Forced Marriage, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Joker War Arc, New 52, Night Terrors, Paralysis, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:22:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26427073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnandStars/pseuds/DawnandStars
Summary: Barbara dreams of the night Joker tried to force her to marry him, but dreams are horrible things where nothing goes right and can only go wrong. The only one there to calm her down after the nightmare is Jason.
Relationships: Barbara Gordon/Jason Todd
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	Something Borrowed

Her stomach was twisting in knots as she looked at the church looming before her, like some kind of bad omen. Her mother’s finger felt _heavy_ in the pouch she had set it in. Part of her seriously doubted that the Joker wanted her to wear her mother’s ring for this stupid wedding, so she kept it in the bag with the finger.

If there was one good thing about the dirty note the madman had shoved into her hand, it was that it was such a simple list. A veil, flowers, and getting hitched? At least there was no dress, no reception, nothing.

She could skip all of these to the unlisted fourth task, which was beating up the Joker, so long as she could ensure her mother would be safe and not blown to bits by a damn nail bomb of all things. Okay, maybe she should play along with the Joker’s sick game, let him _think_ he’s won, and _then_ pummel him to the ground.

Upon entering the church, however, Barbara felt like something was. . . _Wrong._ She saw the flowers, the veil. . .

And a _wedding dress._

That’s not right. The note said nothing about a wedding dress. Maybe he just set it up as a display, because this was his ‘wedding’ day? The thought made her skin crawl under her suit, even as she grabbed the flowers and placed the veil upon her cowl. Further in, she could see that the Joker had his goons filling the pews, all of them dressed for the big day, though some stood around the poor priest with weapons.

Undoubtedly to ensure that this would actually occur.

“Oh, _darling,_ you look positively ravishing! Although, I am a bit _hurt,_ ” the Joker said, his voice right by her ear. Barbara stood her ground, though her grip on the flowers tightened. Why was he right there? Shouldn’t he have already been by the altar?

“Hurt? I’m here though, aren’t I? Flowers and veil, like your note said,” she replied, keeping her voice cold and neutral. Not an easy thing to do, of course, not once she felt his hands rest on her shoulders and slide down her arms before resting on her wrists.

“Yes, well, plans change and I wasn’t able to rewrite my little note to reflect them,” he explained. The hand holding her left wrist traveled further down, fingers brushing against her ring finger. “Like, this, for example. You aren’t wearing the _ring_ that I gave you, my little bat-betrothed. And you’re _still_ in this gaudy outfit that makes you a fake Bat.”

And then he was standing in front of her, and Barbara realized in that moment that something was very, _very_ wrong, but nothing in her memory could pull forth the actual events. It was as if she was living a rewritten reality, one she couldn’t even stop. His ghastly grin from his rotting face was level with hers, teeth bared in a ghoulish smile that just didn't _stop._

“My sweet _Barbara,_ ” he crooned, and she felt her heart stop beating. “You’re not in your _wedding dress._ Boys! Help my batty bride get changed! And make sure she doesn’t run, we can’t have her getting cold feet.”

She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, the Joker’s goons suddenly grabbing her, pulling at her cloak, her gauntlets, her _cowl._ Oh, God, her cowl, they could all see her face now, there was no _hiding._

The wedding dress they put her in was almost a perfect fit, if only because of the rips and tears. It felt scratchy in some places, barely comfortable in others, and was dirty near the hem, almost like whoever had worn it before had gone running through a field in the rain. Actually, if she dared to look, she swore she saw a bloodstain on the dress near. . . Near where the Joker had shot her.

A goon placed the veil on her head again, just in time for the Joker to kneel before her and take her hand, her mother’s bloodied wedding ring in his grasp. She shuddered, unable to keep herself from looking repulsed as he slid the ring upon her finger, blood staining her skin.

_No, no, stop this, stop!_

But she could only stand, frozen, flowers once more in her grasp as the Joker stood beside her again. It was twisted, really, her in the wedding dress of some woman who had probably been killed by the Joker, and him, standing there like there was nothing wrong with this picture at all. Barbara couldn’t keep herself from bringing her hand to the bloodstain, fingers nearly curling into the fabric when she felt loose skin by her now bare ear.

“Sorry about the mess. If I had the time, I would have made sure the dress was a pure white for a pure bride.” She could hear his laugh, a low chuckle that sent a chill down her spine. “But we both know how you’re not _pure._ I already had my fun with you, remember? Oh, I should show the slideshow again! Maybe with pictures from my more _personal_ collection.”

She wanted to vomit, her stomach flipping as she tried to ignore the moment he had mentioned. She saw the priest’s lips moving, but couldn’t hear his voice, everything feeling like an out of body experience. This. . . This was to save her mother. To keep her safe, right? Even though it was _the Joker_ she had to do this with, even as he reminded her of the most traumatic night of her life.

Barbara sucked in a breath when his hand suddenly released her own and found the small of her back through a hole in the dress, fingers near where her implant was.

“You know, Babsy,” he began, and she couldn’t stop herself from turning her head to look at him. There was a cruel gleam to his eye, and she was a few seconds too slow to realize what was happening. “I can’t _wait_ to have you trapped beneath me again.”

By the time she did, his grotesque lips were upon hers, a knife digging into her back as she was dimly aware of the priest saying, “I now pronounce you _husband and wife._ ”

Her legs gave out from under her, the only thing keeping her up being the Joker’s arm wrapped around her. He was laughing, the sound bouncing off the walls around them, her implant held in his hand above her head as Barbara realized that she couldn’t feel her legs.

“Looky here, boys! Babsy baby is _so thrilled_ to be my wife that she can’t even _stand_ it _._ Just as fine! I’ve got room for her in my basement, and if she’s good, she can keep her arms!”

“No, no, I’m not. . . I- N-”

***

**_“NO!”_ **

Barbara shot up in bed, skin covered in a cold sweat, eyes wide as she looked around for something familiar, something to ground herself. Her desk off to the side, computer screen still on with an email for Dinah open. Her clothes scattered on the floor from when she had come home, body aching from breaking up a gang fight just hours before.

And Jason Todd, standing in her doorway, dressed only in his underwear.

She focused on him, on how he was quick to make his way over to her and take his place by her side. How his scarred arms wrapped around her, pulling her against his chest, her ear up against him. She listened to his heartbeat, trying to breathe along with it.

“Never seen you wake up with a scream before, Barbie,” he said, his voice a welcome sound. Much better than the Joker’s laughter, which she could still hear ringing in her ears as he stole her legs _again._

Oh, God, _her legs!_

Barbara was quick to pull herself from Jason’s embrace, kicking her sheets away and nearly _sobbing_ with relief that she still had her legs, that she could still move them, _feel them._

“You wanna tell me what just happened? Was it that night again?” Jason asked, already used to when she would have nightmares about the night she had been shot. His arm wrapped around her again, Barbara leaning into him to listen to his heart once more.

“No, it. . . God, it was so much worse, Jay. I almost wish it _was_ the night he had shot me, and not. . . Not what I just saw.” She curled her hands into fists, relishing the slight sting of her fingernails digging into her palms. Anything to remind her that she was awake, that she wasn’t back in that church.

When she thought about it, she could remember that night _perfectly._ The note, the goons, hell, her own _brother_ coming in and giving her up to keep their mother safe. But her nightmare had made it ten times worse, had her go through the demented ceremony and be crippled _again._

“Do you want some tea? I think I want some tea,” she suddenly said, moving to get up from the bed. Jason’s hand grabbed her wrist, her _left wrist,_ and all she could suddenly imagine was the Joker holding it and commenting on how she wasn’t wearing the ring. She did her best to not jerk away from Jason, however, not wanting him to worry too much about her.

“Babs, you don’t have to lock it up. That’s my job, remember?”

Barbara smiled, bending down to press a soft kiss to his lips, sighing softly at the feeling of them against her own. Better than whatever she would have felt had the Joker actually-

“Come have some tea with me,” she finally said, breaking the kiss to not only speak, but to also break away from the resurfacing image of her nightmare. “We can talk then, I promise.” She didn’t give him any room to argue, hurrying to leave the room so she could head into the kitchen and grab two cups.

“Do you want your usual? I think I still have some,” she said, shifting through one of the cabinets. Black tea and white tea would do no good, and while she had some of Alfred’s famous Darjeeling blend, she doubted that would do much to help her right now. Oh, no, not rose tea, that would just make her think of the bouquet and she’d rather not do that.

“If my usual is that stuff that helps me calm down with some honey, then yes, I’ll take that.” He leaned against the counter, watching her set down a mason jar of tea leaves, the label reading ‘lavender.’ Next was a half-full bottle of honey and two tea strainers.

“Here.” Barbara placed his cup by him, her own held in a white-knuckled grip. She wasn’t shaking, thankfully, but she certainly didn’t feel any better, even with the tea. She felt Jason’s hand on her shoulder, guiding her away from the kitchen and towards the couch. He took her cup from her, setting it and his down on the coffee table.

The moment he was sitting on the couch, he pulled Barbara into his lap, pressing his lips to the top of her head. “Okay, Barbie, you _have_ to talk to me. No one else is here, just you and me. No secrets between us, okay?”

 _That_ is when the shaking started, one of her hands pressing against her thigh to put pressure on it, to just _feel_ it still connected to her. Her other hand ran through her hair, her breathing almost erratic if it wasn’t for Jason motioning for her to breathe with him. He didn’t even need words, just actions, and it was almost like _magic_ that he could help her.

Except she knew it wasn’t magic, but the thought was comforting.

“Do you remember that night the Joker came back? When he targeted us all one by one, made us try to kill each other and put an end to our little found family.” It wasn’t even a question in the end, just a statement about a memory that even Jason could remember perfectly. But why was Barbara bringing it up now? The Joker made them think their faces were gone, but Barbara had woken up in a panic about her _legs._

“I don’t know exactly what all of you went through, but for me. . . He kidnapped my mom, and James Jr. brought me to him. The sick bastard had. . . He cut off Mom’s finger, with her wedding ring, and _proposed_ to me!” she continued, pressing her hand harder into her thigh.

“So, was it about your mom and what he did to her? Maybe your brother?” Jason asked, rubbing a hand against her back, as if it would help her stay grounded. She didn’t fail to notice that she was stiffening up when his hand wandered towards the small of her back, near where her implant was.

“Worse. It was when I reached the church except. . . My dream didn’t match up with my memories. He forced me into a wedding dress, unmasked me before the priest and all of his goons, had me wear my mom’s bloodied wedding ring. . .” She felt sick, her mind conjuring up the imagery once again, reminding her that the nightmare had been more or less close to being real.

“Babs-”

“I couldn’t move, couldn’t fight back! He reminded me of the night he shot me, the night he _raped_ me, telling me that it didn’t matter if the dress wasn’t pure white since I wasn’t a pure bride. Then he. . . he. . .”

Barbara slammed her fist against her thigh, clenching her jaw against the pain she sent through her own limb. Jason could only sit there, arms ready to wrap around her and give her a safe place to run to. This was something she needed to discuss, something he knew she shouldn’t be bottling up. How long would she have kept this to herself if he wasn’t here?

“He tore out my implant with a knife, taking my legs away _again._ God, if I didn’t wake up when I did, I don’t know what he would have done to me.” Barbara felt Jason press her cup back into her hands, even letting him guide it to her lips so she could take a long, overdue sip. The taste of lavender and honey washed over her tongue, gliding down the back of her throat to seemingly spread throughout her system. While it wasn’t a one-and-done sort of thing, she did feel a tiny bit better.

“So that’s why you were panicking about your legs. You were scared that he took them away again, but in a more permanent fashion by ruining your implant,” Jason said, moving to set her cup back down and then grab his own. “Babs, your implant is on its last legs already, and you’ve said it yourself that you don’t care about losing your legs again.”

“I know. I could go back to my wheelchair and be fine, but that would be by _my_ choice, Jay. This was. . . This was something he had stolen from me again, would _try_ to steal again if he could.” _Had_ tried to steal again, since he had hacked it and used it against her before she willingly ripped it out. One more blow like that, one more shock in its direction, and she was done as Batgirl.

Jason didn’t respond, merely leaning in to kiss her forehead. She knew he had a faint idea of how she felt. After all, he was alive again, and the Joker could easily try and kill him again. Hell, he even tried to use a brainwashed Dick to do just that, but he was still breathing!

“You know what you need right now, Barbie?” he said, making sure both cups were definitely on the coffee table. “You need a fucking break. No patrols, no listening into police radio chatter, nothing. No, as your doctor-”

“Oh my god, Jason.”

“-I’m prescribing you a few days of bed rest, with some of those days open for dates with yours truly. Maybe we could do one of those escape rooms you keep talking about so much, or get some overpriced coffee before sneaking some snacks into a movie we probably won’t give two shits about,” he finished, grinning. “Come on, you gotta admit, it's a good idea.”

Barbara rolled her eyes, shifting herself so she could lean up against Jason. “A good yet _impossible_ idea. You know we’re not allowed a day of rest unless we’re injured enough that _Alfred_ would have to tell Bruce to give us a break. But. . . Alfred isn’t here, so. . .”

“So we tell Bruce that we’re basically on call, but unavailable otherwise. Maybe right now we start small though. We could make some popcorn, finish off our tea and see if some twenty-four-hour place is open for delivery to get some cheap food, and put on your favorite movie.”

Barbara nodded, moving to kiss Jason gently. The idea was good, perfect even, though she doubted the more long-term one would last for long after everything that had been happening in Gotham lately. Maybe one day she should get out of the country again, and this time with Jason.

“Alright, you order our food, I’ll get the popcorn going. Deal?”

He didn’t answer with words, merely pulling her into another kiss before releasing her so she could get up from the couch. Sleep seemed like such a far off idea to the both of them, especially right now.

But that was fine. Barbara had Jason, just like he had her. No more nights spent with just their heads after waking up from nightmares about their traumas. Just late nights and dumb movies, until the next time they were called upon to wear their masks and help people.

***

The following morning found them both asleep on the couch, Barbara laying on top of Jason, his arm flung over her back to hold her close to him. Takeout boxes were scattered on the coffee table, the television showing a rerun of some old show.

But there was no screaming and jumping to wake up, no nightmares creeping at the edge of either of their minds. For once they found peace in their dreams, and they found it in each other’s arms.


End file.
